


Bittersweet

by Lady_GothiKa



Series: Sweet & Sour - Victor Zsasz [9]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: (Warning for Blood), Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Short Chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21766912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_GothiKa/pseuds/Lady_GothiKa
Summary: When a mutated strain of the Tetch Virus gets into the hands of the most elite members of Gotham’s underworld society, things tend to get a little strange — even for Gotham’s standards.—The reader decides to turn a profit by becoming a willing blood donor for a bunch of ‘Vampires’
Relationships: Victor Zsasz/Original Female Character(s), Victor Zsasz/Reader, Victor Zsasz/You
Series: Sweet & Sour - Victor Zsasz [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1249388
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

When you were younger, you would never have imagined your life would have amounted to this. Then again, thirteen-year-old you didn't have bills to pay, nor did she have to worry about a little thing called _rent._

If anything, this was a side job, a side job that paid so well you essentially didn’t need that ‘other’ job.

A mundane job.

_A far more orthodox job._

Though for what it was worth, it had allowed you to pursue your love of art; while this - well… bleeding into a bag, wasn’t exactly dignifying nor was it a subject you’d like to openly talk about to strangers. Though from the outside it might have seemed like a noble cause, although as fate would have it… it was far from that.

If there is a truth out there about how this all started, you didn’t know it. All you had come to understand is that some time three years ago the _‘Tetch Virus’_ was released upon the entire city of Gotham, a lot of people had been affected, nearly everyone was. You, however, where one of the only left spared, for whatever reason you remained immune.

The rest of the city was eventually cured, but for a time it seemed like you were the only one not losing their mind.

Then something else happened, something no-one could have predicted - for a small group of people, the virus had mutated. Some say it resulted from an underground society, others whisper of an ‘evil scientist’ named Hugo Strange...

The fact is, this small isolated group was left incurable, unlike the rest - but neither were they showing and symptoms of the initial virus... If you had to speculate, it appeared as if they did this to themselves - from what you’ve seen, none of them acted like what they had was as much of a burden to carry.

They seem to enjoy their own inflection and treated it as if it were a _dark gift._

Now they can only drink human blood, pure blood - or more specifically, _your blood_. The blood of the few people who remained exposed to the toxin, yet left untainted. There was something about drinking tainted, or unexposed blood they could not stomach. If there was a reason, you don’t think you’ll ever know why. 

You supposed it didn’t really matter, at the end of the day this was the best thing to happen to you in the last few years. Being paid for something your body naturally makes was great, you don’t need all your blood, and besides… sharing is caring, _right?_

Even if that technically makes you a walking Happy Meal for a bunch of bloodsuckers.

Most have just come to calling them ‘Vampires’


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, i am posting multiple chapters at once....

There was an unhealthy stigma about being a ‘blood donor.’ For the little people who knew the truth. They spun eerie tales of young girls being kept in basements for weeks on end, blinking fluro lights, chains, being hung upside down and bled out into a rusty bucket every other day.

And of course.. _.being covered in bite marks._

Nevertheless, all of those were far from the truth. In fact, _they weren’t even close._

The truth was, it was a simple job. 

_Actually_ , it was without question the best and most effortless job you’ve ever had. Twice a week you got picked up at night by a personal chauffeur and taken to Mr. Cobblepot’s estate. For a few hours and all you have to do is sit there in a nice cozy chair while two nurses strap you in, prick your arm. Check your health, force a few iron supplements down your throat, and serve you snacks.

_To hell with what anyone thought, this was the dream._

While you were there, they treated you like a goddess for having the gift of life streaming through your veins. Mr. Cobblepot hardly ever saw you in person and you weren’t protesting. He gave you the _heebie-jeebies_ , hair prickling on your neck and everything. There was something about him and the others that just wasn’t... _right_. 

You couldn’t explain it, Oswald was an amiable man without a doubt. He was exquisite as much as he was a natural aristocrat. He wouldn’t consume blood out of anything besides a crystal wine glass _—the man was highly refined._

Still, that never diminished the fact that whenever he was near, he set your teeth on edge. Even the way he appeared - it was just like the books and movies depicted, like what everyone said, ‘Vampires’ cold white skin, protruding blue veins, marble-like…. Dead looking… their teeth… _they were built for more than sipping on crystal wine glasses._

Thank god, Mr. Cobblepot had class and his table manners.

But he wasn’t the only affected.

There were two other women you had seen on occasion, Barbara and Tabitha. Like Oswald, they had their own ‘mortal’ they liked to consume from.

Then there was Ed, he was generally found within the space of Oswald’s shadow, other times he’s gone for weeks… He seems far more ... _reluctant..._ than the rest about his nature.

_And Victor._

You’re not really sure how he became tangled up in this - but it sure as hell suits him. Just seeing him makes you jump. You’ve come up with the habit of just calling him _‘Nosferatu_.’

Because that’s literally what your mind jumps too whenever you see him.

He has the perverse, flamboyant nature that could only match the one and only Lestat de Lioncourt. Though, lacking far lesser years, which he compensates for by playing the creepy card in his favor. This guy loves being a bloodsucker, it gives him a reason to be 100% more dramatic than when he was alive.

Oswald and Edward might drink your blood from fancy glassware, but Victor? He’ll drink it straight from the bag as if it was a delicious smoothie with a long sippy straw.

_You wish you were joking._

The last time you saw him he told you to eat more strawberries because it makes you ‘sweeter.’ Because you seriously want to know that, right? Oswald had given you his own instructions on what to consume, supposedly it changes your ‘flavour.’ For now, you’re fixed on a no meat, a strict vegetarian diet. 

_It makes you easier to swallow, who would have known._

Plus no booze, no prescription pills, and daily exercise.

At least you’re allowed to a small allowance of caffeine…

_It’s not so bad._

  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

It wasn’t uncommon for Mr. Cobblepot to occasionally request your blood in… ‘bulk.’

Or in more specific terms, a little over one pint. This usually only happened when he was away traveling, considering the usual supply was far less; he favored a smaller amount and more regularly - He preferred it to be ‘fresh’. 

For the time being you remained at his residence while he was gone, fastened up to your regular set up that made your arm bruised and painfully sore afterward, but you were determined it was all worth it. While you sat idly you could concentrate on your art, moving your arm gently enough not to cause any concern.

Though, just because the cat was away didn’t mean the  _ mouse _ couldn’t come out to play. Zsasz had sniffed you out at least an hour ago. You say ‘sniffed’ because he can literally smell you entering the door, as creepy as it sounds; you’re essentially a giant snack after all. 

He watches you mostly, just standing there all dead-like, not breathing or fluttering an eye. In the last few weeks, he discovered he didn’t need to blink anymore and now he constantly abuses his newfound ability, sometimes you swear this guy has a personal vendetta just make you as uncomfortable as possible. 

“Mind turning to the left a little?” You ask innocently enough, coaxing him to shift with your charcoal stained fingers. 

He obliges happily, turning from the other side of the room.

If he could stare at you for hours on end, you figured you could do the same, and why not be productive at the same time? He was, after all, standing there like a marble sculpture, you might as well draw him like a bowl of fruit too.

You gaze at him, gently tracing the strong arch of his jaw, the frame of his nose, the gentle curve of his smooth head… the finishing details, a little more shading upon his suit to get it just right. 

He seems to catch on. “Are you going to let me see, sweets?”

Considering his attitude lately, you feel reluctant. “I don’t see why I should.”

Before you can even blink, your drawing pad is snatched from your hands making you jump, it’s like he didn’t even flinch from his spot and yet, he now holds your sketch pad.

This guy is going to give you a freaking heart attack one day! 

At least if you die, there’s a significant chance he’ll starve to death.

“My teeth - since when do they look like this?” He turns the pad over like you hadn’t noticed the two long razor-sharp teeth right at the front, like Nosferatu in a comical appearance. 

_ Unlike his own which were more to the side, shorter, sharper, more canine. _

Regardless, his expression made the whole thing worthwhile. 

“Oh sweet thing, it was almost perfect.” He shakes his head and clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. He rips the drawing from the pad and places it in his coat. 

“You’re stealing my art now?” You raise a brow. “I was looking forward to painting that later, maybe add some red, then sell on the dark web, along with your creepy bloodsucker secrets," you joke with him as always.

Victor remains poised till you finish, “At least you still have your sarcasm, it’s probably why you taste so good. Besides, I’ve seen your art - there’s more than one reason why no one’s buying it, sweets.” 

_ Ouch. _

You go to reciprocate but the nurses coming back into the room have you on your best behavior. Gradually they start to unhook you, the needle from your arm is the last part, the bag taken away. Victor watches on like a great white shark, and blood has just splashed into his ocean. A thick stream runs down your arm as the needle strays from your tender flesh.

It drips onto the floor before the nurse can grab a fresh cloth.

You eyes instantly fall on him, watching as his nose scrunches up, a vein on the side of his neck pulses. You can’t imagine how eager this guy is, Oswald has him on rations and he probably hasn’t eaten in a week, _ it wouldn’t be the first time.  _

As he said, at least you still have your sarcasm. “Five-second rule,” you tease him.


	4. Chapter 4

Often you’d have strange dreams that leave you with far odder troubles, perhaps you could even call them twisted fantasies. To a sense they scared you just as much as they make your toes curl.

Was it truly that perverted you could have sick fancies of hot mouths and teeth digging into your skin?

Perhaps you’re starting to lose it. It’s either that or those ‘Lost boys’ are starting to have some kind of hocus pocus charm that’s luring you in. 

If you get any say in the matter, you sort of hope it’s just your head playing sick games.

Still, you can’t help but wonder what it feels like. 

The thought alone keeps you up at night.

It would probably hurt like hell, or so you tell yourself. Maybe that’s how they turn one another. It could very well be the reason why they don’t bite you in the first place. You weren’t sure how they spread their ‘dark gift’ to each other; all you know is the fact that it can be spread. 

The original Tetch virus was spread via contact with infected blood, and so originally it had been somewhat similar to transmitted blood disease, whatever it was now couldn’t be far from that. 

You turned in bed as the late night shifted into morning. These creatures of the night had taken up so much of life in the last few months and you still hardly knew nothing of what they were even capable of. 

You never see them during the day, it had always been night. They have fangs, only dine on pure human blood, and they are also usually strong and fast. 

Zsasz has always been keen to show off his supernatural talents, but it was their weakness’ they kept under lock and guard; If they even had any other than direct sunlight.

Perhaps you should wear a clove garlic around your neck, if the legends where to be taken seriously. Maybe add a wooden stake into the mix… or a silver crucifix.

_

You spent the next day taking it slow; it was easy to become overwhelmed after giving so much blood the previous day. Your head often spins, nausea generallyfollows, it had to be the worst part about the whole ordeal. You could handle the bruising and the late night trips, but the aftermath? 

You spent it on your back, curled into your sofa, watching movies and not being able to do much of anything else. 

It was like any life that had been in you--- had been completely drained.

You stay like this until the sun sets over the city. Once it was a peaceful experience, now? Not so much. 

When you lay in bed at night, it always feels like you’re being watched. You know it’s simply paranoia. From the beginning you were unsure if the connection with these… creatures ... would put you in danger. 

They could come for you.

Do god knows what.

But you're not much use to them dead and Mr. Cobblepot already has everything he desires from you.

You were perfectly safe.

… or at least you thought.


	5. Chapter 5

Two weeks went by relatively uninterrupted, you were even able to get some solid work done within this time. Despite what Zsasz had said, you had managed to commission and sell two art pieces. One of an old lady and one of a small, white terrier with a serious under bite.

To be frank, this wasn’t remotely what you had sent out to accomplish when you had gone to art school. But hey, it was still  _ something. _

In the meantime, you felt fulfilled, and you even started to feel like your old self again.

_ Plenty of energy and even perk back in your step. _

Days had gone by since you had last heard a word from Mr. Cobblepot, neither had you booked a date for your next appointment, so you where expecting that any day now.

At night you laid in bed with a book in your hand, the lamp to your left was the only light on. You licked your thumb, slowly turning the page.

Suddenly you hear a noise coming from downstairs that sets you on alert.

“Please be a raccoon.” You pull yourself from bed, feet hitting the floor without a sound. “Please, please be a raccoon,” you repeat, going for the door, taking your bat with you as you investigate further. 

You weren’t taking any chances.

There was a soft thumbing, it sounded like shoes. 

Your heart rate quickened.

“Hello?!” you’re a fucking idiot. “Is ...anyone  _ there?”  _

**Silence.**

_ Because obviously a thief or a murder is going to reply. _

Your hand finds the nearest light switch, flicking it on.

You hear a painful hiss, “Off!”

You did as asked, reacting swiftly. “What the fuck?!” Victor? He was at your dining table! 

_ Note to self, you dont have to invite this fucking fangs in! _

_ That’s going to help you sleep at night. _

__

You’re stumbling around the kitchen in the dark, grabbing your lighter and few tea lights.

Lighting them allows you to finally see the man. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

His eyes, those dark orbs that resemble night itself glare back at you, unblinking. “You said you’d finish it.”

“What?!”

“ _ It _ .” Zsasz pulls out his portrait and plants it on the table in front of you.

You had forgotten all about it.

Apparently he hadn’t.

“What?” You groaned, frustrated and tired. “Do you know what time it is, Victor?!”

The man finally blinks, pulling back his sleeve to take a glance at his overly expensive watch. 

“Breakfast?” He replied innocently. “The real question here is what’s with the bat, sweets?” 

He gestures to your hand and at the same time you look down, you could beat him right now. Though you’re unsure if he’d feel anything at all.

“I thought you were a raccoon!”

“So you planned to beat it to death? Seems a little harsh.”

“What?” You’re taken back. “NO!”

Zsasz lifted a brow at you in a teasing sort of doubt. **  
**

“I… I would never!” Reacting, you palm your face, it’s late, you’re tired and considering the time right now, almost everyone else on the ‘normal spectrum’ would be as well.

With that in mind you had also just remembered that you’re indeed standing in front of this bloodsucker wearing your pajamas, a relatively short, silk nightgown.

_ Fantastic, this was super ideal. _

“What’s the real reason you’re here?” 

The drawing was a crap excuse. “Don’t tell me you’re here just because your ‘hungry’ because I swear to god, I’ll make you deep throat a crucifix so hard you’ll _ —” _

“Whoa now, sweets.” Victor hushes you, “Look, I am not here to eat you.”

_ Wow, so comforting. _

“I am not saying I wouldn’t, cause I definitely would like too. But that’s not the reason.” 

_ Uhm.. thanks? _

“Swanky place by the way.” Victor looks around avoiding the current subject. “Odd to see a girl your age actually use her money well.  _ So responsible.”  _

_ What the fuck, dude. Are you being real right now? _

“Seriously?” You groan.

“Yeah.” He responds, looking back to the drawing. “So gonna finish it?!” 

It’s real hard not slap your own face right now, but you buckle under pressure. It’s probably those large black eyes. Great, you’re succumbing to a man who wants to eat you. Now, you know you’ve hit rock bottom. 

“Fine, but make me a cup of tea and grab my colors over there.” Without a passing second, the chair skids back - a breeze of wind hits your face so hard it makes your hair brush over your shoulders.

A clunk of porcelain, your art tools appear in front of you and then you’re greeted with a disappointed groan as he clicks the kettle at a normal speed, tapping his fingers impatiently, realising he now has to wait like a mere mortal. 

“What’s wrong,” You sit, “Are my human contraptions beneath you?”

He glares, “That’s one way of putting it, sweets.” 

_ Can you stop calling me that?  _ You want to moan but instead you put it at the back of your head, the sooner you finish this, the sooner he leaves and hopefully never returns.

By the time the kettle whistles you have your brushes out, from the corner of your eye you watch him hopelessly dunk a tea bag, in and out. What the hell is he even doing? Just leave it alone…

_ It was hard to believe this guy was actually human once. _

Zsasz goes for the sugar and you need to stop him before he goes for a tablespoon instead of a teaspoon. “Easy on the sugar there, sparkles.” You tut at him.

The spoon clucks as he lets go of it, dead eyeing you from across the kitchen.

  
“Call me that again and I will fucking eat you, _little girl.”_


End file.
